


Dreamweaver

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Child Abuse, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: “The dream state is… not stable. I shall send you in, but I can’t promise you’ll find his conscious straight away. First you may have to journey through his nightmares, before you find where he’s hidden himself.”Whumptober Day 11: Psych
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Whumptober 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958032
Comments: 17
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> No 11. PSYCH 101Defiance | Struggling | Crying

There was a limited amount of reasons that Geralt would willingly go to a sorceress for help, even less reasons to go to a sources who wasn’t Yennefer, and even FEWER to go to an oneiromancer, a sorceress who could read dreams. 

But Dandelion hadn’t woken up three days and Geralt was running out of options.

They’d been sleeping in the hayloft of a farmer’s barn when it had started. Dandelion had whimpered in his sleep - not that uncommon of an occurrence - and Geralt had kicked him to shut him up (again, perfectly normal). But that hadn’t shut him up, and after trying for ten minutes to wake him, Geralt had dunked his head in the well outside.

That hadn’t worked either.

So he’d loaded him up on Roach and taken him to a healer, but she hadn’t known what to do (and Dandelion had started crying in his sleep) so he’d taken her advice and ridden to the nearest mage. The mage had taken one look at Dandelion and sent them to the oneiromancer.

She’d listened patiently as Geralt explained what was happening, that Dandelion seemed to have been trapped in some sort of terror, whimpering and thrashing in his sleep.

When he’d finished his explanation, she’d sat in silence for a long time. “Can you help him?” Geralt asked finally.

“There is one way,” said the oneiromancer hesitantly. “Although-”

“Although what?”

“It can be intrusive.”

He looked back at Dandelion, laying perfectly still on the bed. “More intrusive than being forced to live his worst nightmares?”

She was silent for a moment, chewing at her lip. “I can send you into his dreams to pull him out.”

Geralt didn’t hesitate. “I’ll go.”

“If you fail, I cannot promise that I will be able to wake either of you.”

Still, no hesitation. “I don’t care.”

She nodded. “The dream state is… not stable. I shall send you in, but I can’t promise you’ll find his conscious straight away. First you may have to journey through his nightmares, before you find where he’s hidden himself.”

“Hidden himself?” Geralt asked.

The oneiromancer ran her hand over Dandelion’s forehead. “In a state such as his the mind will create a safe haven for himself. Can you picture a physical location he would feel safe?”

“Like… a building?”

“Or a town, or anything of the sort.”

Geralt’s first thought was to say a brothel, but then he reminded himself that was Dandelion’s favorite place, not necessarily his safe place. “Oxenfurt?” he suggested finally.

“Are you certain?”

“No,” he confessed.

“Then it is best for you not to imagine any place at all, instead I will send you into his dream state and you will have to uncover for yourself where he’s hidden himself.”

Geralt nodded. “I’m ready.” 

She nodded. "Sit beside him," she said. "I will show you into his dreams." 


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt found himself on the well manicured lawn of a large manor house, exactly the sort of house that someone like Dandelion - with his airs and general spoiled personality - would belong in. _This must be it_ , he said to himself.

There was no sign of the poet, only two young boys playing on the lawn. Geralt turned to walk away from them then stopped and turned back. _If I’m in his dreams… then who’s to say I’m looking for an adult?_ He turned and walked toward the boys.

They were laughing and playing, and took no notice of the Witcher as he moved closer. They both had curly hair - one blonde, one dark - that flopped around their faces as they laughed and rolled around under the tree.

 _Play fighting_ , he realized with some amusement. _I never thought of Dandelion as the type to fight, even in play_. He felt himself grin.

Walking closer the boys took no notice of him, and he was able to get a better look at them both. The taller, fair haired of the two was clearly Dandelion, although his clothes were somewhat shabbier than the smaller boy’s. But there was no mistaking the cornflower blue eyes that gleamed with delight as he pinned the younger boy under him.

Geralt knew little about Dandelion’s family, he avoided talking about them, whenever possible. All he knew came from snippets of conversation, mostly things he’d overheard from Ferrant, Dandelion’s cousin. He knew the bard had a younger half brother that was favored by their father, but he had no idea what had happened to Dandelion’s mother or what sort of relationship the boys had.

He also knew - thanks to one night when Dandelion had a bit much to drink - that the poet had had a sexual relationship with his step mother (the poet insisted he’d seduced her, but given that he had been fifteen when it happened, Geralt begged to differ). A sick feeling filled his stomach, remembering the other things Dandelion had confessed to him on that night.

Suddenly, Geralt got the feeling that he was intruding on something private. _I shouldn’t be here_ , he realized. _If Dandelion wanted me to know this he would have said as much, anything I glean from intruding in his dreams is a secret I’ve stolen from him_.

But if he didn’t know how to leave without finding Dandelion and forcing him to break the dream world. And even if he could leave, he wouldn’t leave Dandelion trapped in such a hellish landscape.

A man’s voice, strong and angry, broke through the Witcher’s thoughts. “Julian!”

Dandelion froze and his head snapped up abruptly.

“Father!” the younger boy - Dandelion’s half brother, it must be - crawled out from under the poet and raced toward the approaching man.

Geralt couldn’t reconcile the viscount with the few tidbits he’d been told about him. He looked like a slightly more plain version of Dandelion, just without the blue eyes, which must have come from his mother, or his slightly elven looks (which certainly came from his mother). But then he grabbed the young poet, dragging him to his feet, and Geralt scowled.

“What are you doing, boy?” he snarled.

“P- playing-” spluttered Dandelion.

“Attacking your brother isn’t playing!”

“Father-” began the brother, but the Viscount shook his head.

“Go inside and have your mother look at your bruises, Edmund.”

Edmund nodded and hurried away.

“Father-“ began Dandelion, but the viscount only gave him a violent shake.

“I’ve had enough of you, it’s off to school with you.”

“But-” Dandelion was cut off as his father suddenly struck him across the face.

Geralt didn’t know if they could see him or if he could have any impact on the events, but he stepped forward anyway, calling out, “Stop!”

Dandelion saw him, turning his familiar blue eyes to look at him with curiosity, but the viscount gave no that he’d heard. Instead he hauled Dandelion up, tossed him onto the table next to where the boys had been playing, and jerked off his belt.

Geralt stepped forward to stop him, but his hand passed straight through the viscount, and he could only watch in horror as the belt cracked across Dandelion’s back. The boy let out a shrill shriek, throwing back his head.

“Quiet!”

The Witcher flinched with every strike, unable to do anything but look on in horror as his friend was beaten into submission. When it was over, the Viscount grabbed Dandelion, turned him over, and snarled into his face, “They use a cane at the Temple School, boy.”

Then he stomped away, leaving Dandelion to curl onto his side and sob. Geralt sat on one of the chairs at the table, carefully reaching forward. He was surprised to see that his hand didn’t pass through Dandelion, instead resting on the youth’s shoulder.

“Who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Why’d you just stand there?”

Geralt tilted his head, hoping Dandelion could read the apology on his face. “I tried but-” he shook his head. “I’m not certain that I’m real.”

Dandelion sniffed and rubbed at his nose. Geralt offered him a handkerchief. “Perhaps the temple school won’t be so bad,” he said softly, although he knew it was a lie. Yet another one of Dandelion’s confessions had been his misadventures in Temple School, and how he’d been hurt by one of his teachers.

“Edmund doesn’t have to go,” he sniffed, pouting.

“Well, Edmund seems like a spoiled brat.”

Dandelion grinned through his tears. “He is. He got a pony for his birthday, and all I got was a sock.”

“Socks are nice,” Geralt said.

“I didn’t get a pair! I only got one!”

“Now _that’s_ fucked up.”

Dandelion laughed, his eyes glittering. He tilted his head for a moment, studying Geralt, almost seeming to recognize him.

Then, just as suddenly, the moment passed, and then - faster than Geralt could blink - Dandelion was halfway across the yard, heading toward the door to the house.

Geralt followed after him, but when he opened the door he was certain he’d ended up somewhere else entirely. The room he stepped into couldn’t possibly belong in a manor house.

“Temple School,” he said to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “Dandelion got drunk and ranted about his past” is a reference to another fic of mine, but you don’t need to have read it to read this.


End file.
